


Say That We'll Never Drift Apart (Showers on a Thursday Morning Remix)

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Bondage, Consentacles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: The iron holding Charles’ arms at his sides raises both arms up and wraps around his wrists instead. Charles is starting to breathe harder, face flushed, eyes alight with admirably acted outrage.





	Say That We'll Never Drift Apart (Showers on a Thursday Morning Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [professor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Showers on a Thursday Morning (The Asking for It Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013937) by [professor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor/pseuds/professor). 
  * In response to a prompt by [professor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor/pseuds/professor) in the [xmen_remix_madness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2017) collection. 



> Title from "Eight Arms to Hold You" by G.O.O.N. Squad.

“This will be much easier for you, Charles, if you stop struggling,” Erik says in his most menacing tone.

Charles, currently not moving, looks down at his chair, also unmoving, and at the metal “tentacles” wrapped securely around his upper arms, holding him to the foot of the bed. He looks back at Erik, raising a brow.

Erik frowns, folding his arms, kicking his cape out of the way behind him so he’ll stop tripping over it, ignoring Charles’ chortle. “Stop struggling, Charles,” he says pointedly.

“Ah.” Finally clueing in, holder of genius-level intellect Charles Xavier pulls uselessly at the wrought iron around him, although his muscles do bulge up delightfully under his shirt as he does. “You know, if you didn’t have that helmet on it would be easier for me to tell what you wanted me to—”

“The helmet is part of the scene, Charles.” Another iron bar unfolds from the foot of the bed to glide upward and over the front of Charles’ neck, brushing against his adam’s apple as he swallows, finally starting to look at bit nervous. He raises his chin to try and avoid it; Erik makes it caress him, then hold his head up in that position. 

Charles is watching him warily, and then he vows, gritting his teeth, “You’ll never get away with this,” and Erik feels a pulsing in his cock. 

“You’re at my mercy, Charles,” Erik tells him. “You’re in no position to be making any sort of declaration.” The iron holding Charles’ arms at his sides raises both arms up and wraps around his wrists instead. Charles is starting to breathe harder, face flushed, eyes alight with admirably acted outrage. 

“And what do you plan to do with me, now that you have me?” Charles asks, voice shaking slightly with anger. He shifts in his bonds.

Erik steps closer and touches his chin, smiling when Charles tries to quickly turn his head away in defiance, thwarted somewhat by the iron bar. “I merely wish to make use of your… incredible mind.”

“Never,” Charles spits. “I’ll never allow myself to be used for your cause.”

“Oh? I can be quite… persuasive,” Erik tells him, and with Charles’ arms held back and his chin up, Erik very deliberately rucks up his t-shirt and pinches his nipples. Charles squawks, gasps. He closes his eyes, attempting to recover, and Erik _pulls_. Charles stifles a moan, and swallows hard. Since his accident, the rewiring of his nerves makes areas of his chest incredibly sensitive. Even the cotton brushing over his skin must be arousing him, Erik guesses. 

“You’re _mine_ , Charles. Need I remind you? No one knows you’re here. With this helmet on, there’s no way you can control me. You’re helpless,” he adds this last in a sibilant whisper, gliding his nail down the center of Charles’ chest and watching him shudder.

“Never—” Charles starts again, and Erik presses the iron over his throat back against it, just a bit, enough to make Charles gasp and convulsively swallow.

“Mine,” Erik repeats. “Say it.”

Charles, face flushed, shirt still rucked up to reveal his heaving chest, looks at him a long time. He’s frowning in consternation and anger and resentment and wariness that would devastate Erik if they were real expressions. As it is, the sight of Charles held fast by iron bars and glaring at him is making his cock throb.

Charles shakes his head minutely.

Erik sends cold iron to wrap around Charles’ chest over his nipples, the coolness making him gasp and shiver and close his eyes. Every time he breathes, they brush his skin, and Erik can tell he both craves the sensation and finds it a terrible tease. 

“I could heat that iron, Charles,” he murmurs, brushing it lightly over him. “I could heat it, and mark you. Brand you. Show everyone you’re mine.”

“You’d never,” Charles gasps.

“I could. I could do anything I wanted to you. Because you are mine,” Erik says, stepping close. 

“You won’t,” Charles retorts, breathless. “You wouldn’t hurt me, there’s too much good in you.”

Erik makes the iron rough where it touches Charles, rubs it over him, watches his lips part as he winces, the flush on his face getting pinker. “I think you like that pain, Charles. I think you like all of this. You like being mine.”

“What can I—” Charles licks his lips, swallows, his mouth evidently dry. “What can I do for you, for you to let me go?”

Erik laughs coldly. “Do as I ask, Charles, and let me use your mind.”

“No, I mean,” Charles fixes him with a stare, “what can I do _for you_ ,” and he looks pointedly at Erik’s tented crotch. “I could… suck you off,” he adds, and licks his lips again. “Anything you want.”

Charles’ red mouth is awfully tempting…. Erik unzips himself with a swipe of his power, tracking the look of alarm on Charles’ face that’s not entirely faked. With Charles in place, he floats to hover in front of him, cock nudging at Charles’ lips. Charles takes him in, tentative, Erik suppressing a shudder at the feel of Charles’ mouth around him, hot and wet. Before Charles can react, Erik holds his head and slides in deeper, feeling Charles choke briefly and then recover, drawing in a ragged breath through his nose. 

“No biting me, Charles,” he gets out, gliding that iron bar over Charles’ throat in a reminder before fucking his mouth, as Charles tries to work his tongue over him. 

He comes down Charles’ throat with a grunt. Charles struggles to swallow him, but when Erik lets go of his head and withdraws, he’s flushed and debauched-looking, lips slick with traces of Erik’s come.

“Even more mine now,” Erik says, voice a little rough.

Charles blinks and looks away. “Will you let me go now?”

Erik laughs, sinking back to the floor again to stand up properly despite the shake in his knees. “Oh, Charles, I’ll never let you go. I’d keep you here forever, if I could. Bound, and at my mercy. Mine, forever.”

“Then I suppose it’s hopeless,” Charles sighs, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m yours, Erik. You’ve won. You’ve defeated me. All my powers are yours to do with as you will.”

Erik tucks himself in and does up his zipper, and takes off his helmet, which is starting to get hot and make his hair sweaty. “You’re not supposed to give in that easily,” he says, bending to kiss Charles.

Charles smiles, knowing. “Is that not what you wanted? I thought you wanted me to completely give myself over to you.”

“I don’t want you to actually do it,” Erik tells him, although the words feel somewhat hollow. “I want you to fight. I want you to resist me until the very end.” What the “very end” entails, he’s not sure—they’ve never gotten that far.

“I’d rather not.” 

Erik withdraws the iron bar from across Charles’ neck, and lowers his arms. The iron slides off of him in a caress before reforming the foot of the bed. Charles readjusts his shirt. He looks secure, and pleased. He looks like someone loves him, and he knows it.

“That’s not exactly how my fantasy is supposed to work,” Erik tells him, taking off the blasted cape and setting it over a chair.

“What if we were actually doing my fantasy all along?” Charles asks, teasing, pulling a face. “What if mine was that you thought you had me all along, but it was really I who had you?”

“That’s not fantasy, that’s real life,” Erik sighs, amused and resigned, and Charles reaches out for him, pulls him close and down to him, and kisses him soundly.

“Mine,” Charles whispers, and kisses him again, hands in Erik’s hair. Erik feels the tendrils of Charles’ power around him, holding him. Charles could crush him, but he never would.

“Yours,” Erik agrees in a whisper against Charles’ lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not 100% sure this is an exact continuation of the exact 'verse in Showers on a Thursday Morning (The Asking for It Remix), but when I saw the bit at the end about metal tentacles I knew I had to give it a shot (even though these didn't end up being the metal tentacles I pictured)!


End file.
